Immortal Navy
by Allrounder
Summary: After the bomb and arrest of Harper Dearing, Gibbs and the team are recuperating, and everything is nearly back to normal. But when a child of a dead Navy Lieutenant appears in the entrance, the team finds out that he is special, and his appearance will cause them to doubt their very sense of justice. (The story has been restarted. It is free for open viewing. R&R everyone!)
1. Overview

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, or anything that might have anything to do with the TV show.**

At last, Harper Dearing was killed and convicted with terrorist charges. The FBI and CIA decided to help the crippled agency until they got back onto their feet, but Dearing had made his point. Weak spots cannot be ignored. The Navy tightened their security and accessed the weak points that they had tried to ignore. But the damage was done; lives were lost, buildings were destroyed and pride hacked to little bite-sized pieces.

The NCIS MCRT managed to get through the damage well. McGee took three glass shards to each of his legs, one cutting a major artery. He was hospitalized and only returned to the team when the artery was repaired. Abby came out unharmed, but Gibbs had broken a leg when parts of a brick hit him. He was healed rather quickly. Ducky was prescribed medicine to treat him for his heart attack and was out of commission for nine months. Tony and Ziva were treated for minor cuts and bruises, a hit by a panel to their heads and a twisted ankle on Tony's part.

But, there were some good news; Jimmy Palmer was happily married to Breena after everything was cleared up. Even Ducky managed to persuade his doctor to allow him to attend the wedding. Believe me; there was a hefty amount of talking, knowing Ducky's habit of telling his strange yet intriguing life stories.

Jimmy Palmer took over as Medical Examiner for the time being, and frequently asked Ducky for advice. Everything was going well, with the mass refurbishment of the offices and the placement of the plaque that was fashioned out of a piece of rock that was big enough to be seen even at the end of the courtyard. The workers slowly recovered, and soon nearly everything was repaired and healthy, more or less.

But there was a nagging feeling at the back of the MCRT's brain that this still wasn't completely over.

And they were right.


	2. The Murder

AN: Here is the murder situation. The next two rewrites **will **be a tremendous hassle, so don't expect them to come out any time soon.

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.**

-11 p.m. 23 November 2012-

Jared Natrick Eproger sat at his table and tapped rapidly at his table. He was wearing a stoic face, his mouth a thin line with his eyebrows relaxed. In the piercing silence, a soft snore came from down the hall. Jared spared a look at the door before he clicked the program closed. He let out a tired sigh and closed the computer. He was exhausted from his researching work, taking care of his children and trying to balance his checkbook every day.

But as he started to get off the chair, he heard a squeal of tires outside. Before he even got the chance to respond, three silenced bullets went through the window and struck him in the head, chest and leg. He flopped to the ground, but he couldn't scream as the pain was too much. He winced as he thrust his fingers into his skull and dug out the bullet. But before he could pull, another bullet got him in the hand and another into his shoulder.

He returned to the floor and started to crawl towards the drawer. He pulled one slide out and drew his antique M14 rifle from its case. Loading the rifle he hid behind the drawer as two more bullets went through the window. Breathing in sharply, he jumped out of hiding and shot five rounds with a satisfying boom. He heard the man curse before driving off.

Once he made sure that he was alone, fatigue knocked him down. Regeneration in an exhausted state, at night with three bullets in him was just not fair. He struggled to get back to his chair and turned the comp on. _"First things first," _He thought as he loaded all the programs onto a blue thumb-drive. Every button press felt like placing a weight on his heart.

Once he was finished, he noticed that the bullet in his leg was already covered with the new skin. _"Looks like I'm going to die after all." _He gave a weak smirk and winced. He cupped the wound on his chest as he reached for the M14. Tearing the thumb-drive away, he pulled five rounds into the comp.

Throwing his destroyed comp into position, he finally succumbed to the pain. Taking one final gasp, he stuffed the thumb-drive into his shirt pocket. He felt the pain disperse and the sensation of falling followed.

"_Forgive me, Patricia. I failed you..."_

It was over.


	3. Investigation

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.**

-5.15 a.m. 12 September 2012-

The lift door opened and Tony appeared. As he walked down the aisle, he viewed the entire office. It was still under reconstruction, but the offices and the director's office has been successfully rebuilt, allowing then to work without any disturbances. Ziva and McGee were already at their work tables. "Hello Ziva, McBroken." Tony greeted cheerfully, noticing the crutches lying on the side of McGee's . "For your information Tony, I will be out of these crutches in just one more month. And I am fully healed, just a few pulled muscles, cracked bones, and…" McGee rebutted, though he was cut off by Ziva. "We heard that before. About…let's see…a month ago? I'm telling you McGee, you are not going to get better like that. It is a long progress, trust me." But just as McGee was about to reply, Gibbs marched in. "What I trust right now, Ziva, is for you to do your work." He grabbed his coat and badge from his table.

"We've got a dead Navy Lieutenant on Davle Street. Let's go."

-9.00 a.m. 12 September 2012-

The house was nearly empty, only wrapped with police tape and a few evidence signs here and there. Tony, Gibbs and McGee entered, McGee nearly tripping over a few things due to his crutches. "Well, this is an organized house." McGee said, taking a picture of the destroyed laptop. "Yeah. But that didn't stop him from dying, did it?" Tony replied, as McGee took a picture of the body.

"Name?" Gibbs ducked under the police tape and stared at the cold, lifeless eyes of the body. "Yeah, Jared Natrick Eproger." McGee replied, taking a picture of a bullet beside the body. "We found his credentials in his pocket. Had no need for a fingerprint scanner."

As McGee was taking pictures and Gibbs was surveying the scene, attempting to place the scene together, Tony was examining the body, checking for any form of evidence that would provide help in the investigation. He then noticed that the victim's right hand was on one of his shirt pockets. Digging through the shirt, he found nothing but empty air.

"What are you doing, Dinozzo?" Gibbs asked, appearing behind him. "Agh! Oh, sorry boss." He was surprised at Gibbs sudden appearance. "I was just…covering all bases." Gibbs glanced at the body, then back at Tony. "Well, let Palmer cover those bases. Go. " Gibbs waved him away, and Tony silently staggered over to the disabled McGee.

"Hey McBroken, I forgot to tell you, but I told Abby that you had four days to live. What do you think she's going to say?"

**-P-P-P-PAGE BREAKER-**

Outside, Ziva was questioning the landlord, who had found the body. The land lord was a fat, kind faced man who was wearing plaid pants and a checkered shirt. "-then I saw the blood puddle, so I decided to see what was going on." Ziva took down notes as he spoke. "Then I saw him. Pale, cold and floating in a puddle of blood." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It doesn't make sense. He was always going on about saving the world and all those other things. Who knew that he would kill himself?" Ziva noted the ending of the explanation and closed the notebook. "That is what we are trying to find out. Thank you for your assistance. Is there anything else that I should know about?"

The man nodded. "Yeah, Eproger's got a daughter. 19-year old, a brunette and brilliant. Pretty, too. My son had likes her." Ziva nodded in recognition. "And where is she?" The man pointed to the red building at the far end of the street. "School. She was there for some kind of lock-in or something like that. My son told me about it. Should be back by now- ah! There she is."

The girl walking down the street was, to normal eyes, a student that had spent half of her life avoiding any type of light. She was a fair-skinned, slightly paled-face, brunette and was clad in a neatly ironed school uniform with the crest of her high school on her shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a pony-tail, her tired eyes the same color and seemed to have gone through a twenty-day staring contest. The heavy duffle bag was wrinkled and showed proof of being thrown around like a baseball. She was the face, literally, of stoicism. She didn't even show the slightest discomfort at the sight of the array of strange cars on her lawn, not even at the sight of blood at her doorstep.

Ziva thanked the landlord and approached the girl. "Hello." She greeted. The girl silently stared at the arriving M.E. van. "Yes, I know. You are sorry about your father. I'm sorry. But could you answer some questions for me?" The girl turned to her suddenly, and noticed the gun holster at her hip. Her eyes widened. She took a step away from Ziva and gave a stark nod of the head. "Very well." She reached into her coat, but the girl suddenly moved in a flash of red and brown. And before she knew what was happening, Ziva felt the soil hit the back of her head, was blinded by the light of the sun and felt her legs being held down by the brown leather of the duffel bag.

AN: Yes, I know that I hinted that there was another person in the house, but just let the story flow, alright?


End file.
